


5 Times Steve Dealt with His Team's Sleeping Habits...

by The67ImpalaDragonChild



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Avengers Family, Couch Cuddles, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Steve Rogers, Sleep, Tony is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The67ImpalaDragonChild/pseuds/The67ImpalaDragonChild
Summary: ...and one time they dealt with his.Steve didn't think anything of it when he moved into the Avengers tower. He didn't think about how much the people he's living with would affect him. He's thinking about it NOW!Who knew a bunch of super heroes could be so weird about something as basic as the need to sleep?





	1. Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've been working with off and on and finally decided to post. My other story 'The Touchpoint' will take precedence, but this will all get up here eventually. Inspired by a post I saw on Pinterest about Avenger sleeping habits, and I decided to run with it...
> 
> ENJOY!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Fetal position. Natasha curls up like a cat, all curved limbs and tousled hair, one hand by her face. She looks innocent, almost at peace. This is because the other hand is wrapped around the gun under her pillow."

* * *

Natasha bolted out of bed, shedding the pillow that covered her gun hand as she went. Adrenaline sluiced through her veins, the icy rush setting her heart pounding at a breakneck pace. Her throat was locked, voice muted. She couldn’t have made a sound even if she’d wanted to.  

Hazel eyes swept the darkened room. 

She shook her head, backing out the door and racing down the hall. She couldn’t stay there. She just couldn’t. The bedroom didn’t feel safe right now. Anywhere was better than here.

* * *

 

 

She was curled in a corner. 

Her knees were drawn up protectively, one hand covering her head, red curls tousled and trailing down to hide her face. She’d had a nightmare. Tonight had been a bad one. She’d been having a lot of nightmares lately. The red room. Assassinations. Torture. The Chitauri. Ultron. 

It didn’t even matter anymore. 

Loki hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that her ledger was dripping red.  _ Dripping. _ Might as well be Niagara Falls for the amount of red that seemed to be  _ pouring _ out of it some days. Or nights. And on nights like this all she could do was huddle in a corner: knees drawn up against her chest, one hand protecting her head, and with her gun dangling from the other. On nights like this forcing her thoughts to be quiet was one of the hardest things she had ever tried to do. 

_ Tap. Tap.  _

She tensed. That wasn’t right. Stark Tower, Avengers Tower now but she wasn’t quite used to that yet; Avengers Tower was always quiet. The most noise the tower ever made at night was the hum of the air and whatever small noises Jarvis made every now and again. That  _ tap  _ wasn’t one of either of those sounds. Tony would shuffle through the common areas at all hours of the night, but she would’ve recognized  _ his _ noise. The man was  _ incapable _ of being quiet.

It flew through her head in the space of a millisecond:  **Threat.**

Detected. 

Assessed. 

Now: Response.

_ Tap. _

Her head snapped up, the gun safety clicked off, and the pistol leveled directly at the intruder in the time it took her heart to thump out one rapid fire beat. Before the second  _ tap _ could even sound.

_ Tap. _

The gun was pointed at Steve. Resting directly on his forehead in between his eyes in fact. Threat engaged. Assessment…? 

 

Name: Steven Grant Rogers. 

Alias:  Captain America. 

U.S. Military: Rank, captain. 

Age: Physically, 26; Chronologically, 97. 

Height: 6’2”. 1.9 meters.

Weight: 220 lbs. 99.8 kilos.

Nationality: United States. 

Place of Birth: New York, New York.

Affiliation: Avengers, team leader; S.H.I.E.L.D. secondary affiliation. 

Residence:  Avengers Tower. 

Status: Ally.

 

_ Friend _ . 

 

Steve never took his eyes off of her. 

Never flinched. He stayed exactly where he was, waiting for her to make a move. She was deciding whether he was a threat or not. Cerulean blue eyes regarded her steadily, seemingly unfazed by the gun resting firmly between them. Either he wasn’t aware that anything that threatened her while she was in this state of mind was neutralized with extreme prejudice, or he was just that  _ brave _ . She couldn’t decide which. 

The assassin slowly lowered the gun. 

“Easy.” Steve soothed, easing the gun out of her hands and setting it on the floor beside her. Out of the way, but well within reach should she feel she needed it. 

She roughly shoved messy red curls out of her face. Irritation was leaking in, now that the flight or fight instincts were dying down. She didn’t like anyone to see her in these unguarded moments. The Black Widow wasn’t weak. She had in the past, and would again, kneecap anyone who claimed otherwise. 

“I could’ve shot you.” she growled. 

He shook his head, unperturbed. “No. You have too much control for that.” 

She glared at him. He was dressed casually, pajama pants and a hoodie, a t-shirt peeking out at the hem and collar. Barefoot. His feet had to be cold walking around on the icy tile floors. If it bothered him he didn’t show it. He had a ball point pen in one hand. 

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. Even when you’re disoriented, panicked, you are one of the most self controlled people I know.” He tapped the pen twice against the floor. “You wouldn’t hurt me. Especially on accident.”

She eyed the ball point skeptically. “You made sure I knew you were there. You were trying not to startle me… You risked your life on my  _ instincts  _ and a ball point  _ pen _ ?” 

“It worked.” 

Her glare returned to his face. “How long have you been sitting there watching me?”

_ Now _ he finally had the good grace to look sheepish, an embarrassed flush creeping over his cheeks and along his neck. He dropped his eyes. “I was already awake. I was there when you came flying out of your room and rabbitted down the hall. You didn’t even see me. You just ran. Knew something was wrong, but your room was clear, so I followed. You came straight in here, assumed the position and stayed there.” 

“How  _ long  _ Rogers?!” 

“...you’ve been doing the thousand yard stare for a solid hour and a half."

_ “What?!”  _

An hour and a half. She’d been sitting here completely unaware of anything for an  _ hour _ and a  _ half _ . Steve could’ve been anybody. S.H.E.I.L.D. , Hydra, maybe even Red Room and she wouldn’t have been aware of him at all if he hadn’t tapped that stupid  _ pen!  _ She hadn’t even  _ seen  _ Steve! 

I was vulnerable for an hour and a half…

“No you weren’t.” 

Crap, she’d said that out loud. 

Steve smiled, twirling the pen in his fingers. “Yeah, you did.” 

Apparently she’d said that out loud too. 

He ducked his head to meet her eyes. “And  _ no _ , you weren’t vulnerable. That’s what friends are for. I just had to wait until you were ready. You started to become aware of your surroundings…” he tapped the pen again to illustrate his point. “ ...I let you know I was here.” He smiled and offered a hand. “Now, you feeling up to a cup of tea? You can come with me or I can bring it out here. But if you’re staying out here then I insist you at  _ least _ move to the couch.” 

“I’m not fragile Rogers.” 

“Never said you were.” 

She was still suspicious, but she grudgingly took his hand and let him pull her up from her corner. Tasha retrieved her gun and padded after the six foot soldier. The icy tiles bit into her feet. When she’d bolted from her room, socks had been the  _ last _ thing on her mind. A hoodie or sweater had been the  _ second _ to last thing on her mind. Her coal black fleece pants were more than up to snuff, but the autumn orange spaghetti strap tank top most definitely  _ wasn’t.  _ Goose bumps stood up a mile high on her arms, and tremors ran through her muscles. Sitting in a freezing corner for an hour and a half was more than enough time for a good amount of body heat to leach away. But she stubbornly refused to go get slippers. 

She was  _ done _ being vulnerable in front of Steve. 

Steve led her to the kitchen. Jarvis helpfully brought up the lights as soon as they set foot through the door and Steve went straight for the kettle in the cupboard. 

“Go ahead and grab a seat Natasha, it doesn’t take two people to put water on to boil… you take anything in your tea?”  

“No.” She stayed standing, arms crossed. 

Steve put the kettle on and retrieved a box of tea, two metal diffusers, and a pair of mugs from the various other cupboards. Padding back to the center island he unloaded his armload on the countertop, setting out the mugs and spooning the loose tea into the diffusers. 

It had the feel of long practice. 

She’d always wondered whether he preferred loose tea over tea bags because it tasted better, or because it was what he used back in the forties. The assassin repressed a smile. It was probably a bit of both. She couldn’t see what brand or flavor of tea he’d chosen from where she was standing, the tin was turned away. She hoped he hadn’t picked anything fruity. She’d drink it for his sake, but she couldn’t promise that she’d actually enjoy it. 

Steve cocked an eyebrow at her. “You going to stand there all night?” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and settled into the chair across from Steve. “You’re really testing my patience Rogers.” 

“Really? I’m not trying to.” He set one hip against the counter and mirrored her pose, smiling at her all the while. Daring her to say something. 

She didn’t grace him with that satisfaction. 

Silence fell between them, tense, but not yet painful or awkward. At last, the kettle started up her shrill call for hot water. Steve pushed off the counter and went to retrieve it, rolling up his sleeves before silencing the kettle’s scream. He filled both cups, swishing the diffusers to get the tea steeping before passing her the cup and grabbing his own. 

She jiggled the diffuser, watching the water darken. Pale steam curled up from her cup, dispersing into the air with a strong aroma of cool mint. A smile curled her lips, unbidden. Spearmint. Peppermint. Probably some combination of the two. She blew across the surface, then took a quick sip. Hot tea, laced with cool mint raced across her tongue, the scent strong in her nose. This time the smile she flashed at Steve was absolutely genuine. 

He grinned and raised his mug. “Good?” 

She arched an eyebrow. “See for yourself.”

He laughed and went back to his own mug. “I like mine strong. My ma used to say that she could set a spoon in my tea and it would stand up.” He chuckled and shrugged. “To be fair, you could’ve stood a horseshoe in her coffee and it wouldn’t have even wobbled.” 

Nat snorted. “And I thought Tony was the only one who could manage a cup of coffee that strong.” 

Steve waved it off. “No, you might be able to stand a spoon in his, but not a horseshoe. Every time Ma’s cup tipped over I expected something the consistency of mud to ooze out. I’ll give Tony credit though, his coffee gets points for being extra acerbic. I think you could clean the char out of a grill with that.” 

Natasha grinned into her coffee mug. Tony’s coffee was a mystery, beyond bitter, but not thick. Pepper joked to her once that she thought Tony was lacing his coffee with just enough of some form of acid to up the bite. She was convinced that if you splashed it on his wall it would take the paint off. 

Their mugs were half empty before they broke the silence again. 

Steve turned his mug in his hands. “You want to talk about it?” 

“No.” She glared at him. “What do you think of me Steve? Cowering in the face of a little nightmare.” 

Steve set his mug aside, gave her his complete attention. “I just found one of the strongest, most courageous fighters I know doing the thousand yard stare from a fetal position in the corner with a gun in her hand. Some men, “ he nodded to Natasha. “Or women, might see that as a sign of weakness. Me? I  _ know _ you. Not as well as Clint. But enough. I see anyone I  _ know _ to be strong in that position; my only thought was, and still is… that must have been one  _ hell _ of a nightmare. So, I’m going to offer what help I can. I’m going to give you tea to help you calm down. I’m going to get a hoodie and a pair of socks because I can see your shivers and goosebumps from here. And then we are going to read, or put on music or the tv until you feel ready to go back to bed. Sound good?” 

Natasha dropped her eyes and nodded. 

Steve topped off their mugs and she let him lead her back into the community room and settle her on the couch. He set his mug on the coffee table and left the room. He came back a few minutes later in a different hoodie and wearing socks this time, a blanket and the large thick hoodie he  _ had _ been wearing draped over his arm and a pair of heavy woolen socks in his hand. 

Steve handed her the hoodie first. 

It was heavy in her hands, the thick fabric a deep rich blue. Plain and well worn. A favorite then. It was a warm  _ incredible _ feeling, knowing that someone would give her the best that they had. Not because she had  _ asked _ for it, but  _ just  _ because they really _ cared _ about her. A fresh wave of goosebumps rushed over her skin as she buried her hands in the body warmed fabric, and she hurried to pull it on. She jumped when a strong hand grabbed her ankle, reining in her instinct to lash out at the person grabbing her, and she yanked the hoodie down the rest of the way. 

Steve gave her an apologetic smile and finished putting the wool sock on her foot. He put the other one on as well, then wrapped the blanket around her and put her tea mug back in her hands. Tasha smiled, sipping from her mug as Steve settled in beside her on the couch with his own mug. 

“Jarvis.” She called softly. “Play my third playlist please.” 

_ Of course miss Romanoff.  _ The cultured british voice responded. 

Soft violin music began to filter through the speakers and Tasha settled in again. Like the clothes he had brought her, the quilt was heavy and thick, designed to keep the user warm and toasty. It looked old and well loved, colors that had once been rich and vibrant now faded. Blue and white and purple calicoes blended together to form waves that cascaded from corner to corner, the edges trimmed in an off-white ribbon. Tasha wondered where he’d gotten it. Had it been a thrift store find? Or had S.H.E.I.L.D. preserved the contents of his little apartment in brooklyn, and returned his belongings to him when he’d woken from the ice? She cuddled deeper into the quilt.

Maybe she’d ask him sometime. 

She lost all track of time, sitting there drinking tea, classical ballet music enfolding her. Steve nodded along with the music as he read his book, occasionally humming a bar or two when he recognized the song. Every now and again he would take their mugs into the kitchen to refill them and come back to his friend and his book. 

She rested her head against the sofa and closed her eyes, her third cup steaming in her hands.

* * *

 

 

Steve glanced down at Natasha, forcing himself to stay still. 

The assassin had leaned over and cuddled in close to his side, fast asleep. Steve smiled, removing the cooled mug from her hands and putting it aside. The redhead mumbled when she felt Steve shift, settling down again when Steve turned into her cuddle attack and put his arms around her. She burrowed into his chest and stayed there. He smiled and rearranged the quilt over them both. 

He pitched his voice low to avoid waking Tasha up. “Jarvis, can you get the lights please?” 

The lights dimmed and shut off almost immediately.  _ Of course captain. Shall I turn off miss Romanoff’s music as well sir?  _

Steve glanced down at his sleeping teammate. “No, let it play. Only turn it off if someone’s going to walk in on this.” 

_ Very good sir. Good night Captain Rogers.  _

“Night Jarvis.” Steve smiled at Tasha. 

Despite the fact that she was sleeping on his chest, she’d still somehow managed to curl up into a ball. She was graceful, even in sleep, and she very much reminded the super soldier of a cat. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she  had started purring. She looked so peaceful. Sleep took years away from her, and smoothed away the stress and tension that he would never have noticed if not for it’s absence. 

He shifted, trying to get more comfortable and choked back a yelp when something hard bit into his back just inside his shoulder blade. He stilled, then made an experimental move. It was in roughly the same position as Natasha’s hand, her other hand resting on his chest close to her face, her fingers tangled in her hair. Steve frowned, wracking his brain trying to figure out what on earth she’d had in her hand when she’d fallen asleep. All he could think of was her mug, but that was sitting on the coffee table several feet away. No way that was what he was feeling, and this item was definitely not the smooth rounded shape of a mug. He couldn’t think of anything else. 

“No help for it.” He whispered. He carefully weaseled his hand back between himself and the couch, doing his best not to jostle the assassin. Her night had been rough enough, she needed the sleep! 

_ Please God, don’t let me wake her. _

His fingers brushed something cold and metallic. 

Her  _ gun _ . She’d fallen asleep with a  _ gun _ in her hand! The wheels in his head were turning. Now that he thought about it, any other time he’d seen the assassin sleep, she always had one hand under her pillow, or at least under her head. And he had the distinct impression that he’d noted an empty holster on a couple occasions. The soldier debated trying to get it from her, but in the end, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. She’d been sleeping like this for who only knew how long, and had yet to blow her own head off. If this was what it took to give her peace of mind, then he would trust her to at least have the safety on and her finger  _ beside  _ the trigger, not on it.

Steve let his head rest back against the couch. In the time he’d known Natasha Romanoff, she had gone from colleague to teammate, and from teammate to friend. He would trust her with his life. And he knew that she would trust him with the same. But that she trusted him to have her back when she was vulnerable, like she had been tonight? That was new. And that was a feeling that was absolutely indescribable. 

Captain Steven Rogers fell asleep content with his friend safe in his arms.

* * *

 

 

“Oh my God!” 

_ Click. _

Steve tensed, eyes flying open and searching for the source of the cry. On his chest, Natasha was just as awake and just as ready to spring into action. She lifted her head and glared over the back of the couch. Behind his back, he felt her hand tighten on the gun. A chill ran up his spine as he realized the  _ click _ he’d heard was the safety being snapped off!

“Hey Hawk! You’re girlfriend is shacking up with another dude!” Tony was gleefully yelling back into the kitchen, completely unaware that he was taking his life into his hands. 

Clint’s sleepy voice emanated from the kitchen in what sounded like mid yawn. “Assuming you mean Natasha, she’s not my girlfriend. I don’t have one. And Nat is free to ‘shack up’ with whoever she damn well pleases Stark.” The archer sleepily shuffled into the room, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He raised his eyebrow at the pair on the couch, but didn’t comment on them, just rolled his eyes at Tony. “Leave them alone Stark. If conserving body heat is the only way they can keep warm in this ice box you call a tower, I’m definitely not gonna call them out on it.” He huddled over his coffee, making a show of using his mug to warm his hands. “Hell. You make it much colder around here, I might just join them!” 

Tony rolled his eyes and went back in the kitchen, muttering about archers and spiders and guys in spangly outfits and Jarvis why is it so damn cold in here this morning anyway? 

On Steve’s chest, Tasha finally relaxed, and Steve heard her flick the safety back on.

Clint perched himself on the coffee table, eyeing Natasha shrewdly. Apparently he saw something that concerned him. “Rough night?”

Tasha sighed and shoved her hair out of her face. “Yeah.” 

“Bad?” 

“Worse.” 

Clint frowned. He’d been Tasha’s partner for several years. He knew what she classified as bad. If she said it was  _ worse _ , then he should start prepping for the freaking  _ apocalypse _ . “How worse are we talking?” 

Natasha snorted a laugh. “English isn’t exactly my first language, but I’m fairly sure that your grammar is terrible.” 

The archer smirked. “It got you to laugh.” His features sobered. “Seriously Tasha, how bad are we talking here? Bad as in you’re upgrading the gun you keep under your pillow? Bad as in you’re not sleeping in your room for a week? Or bad as in I should indulge every one of your guilty pleasures I can think of?” 

The red head gave him a look. Then she finally pulled the gun out from under Steve’s back, mindful that she didn’t jab him with it, and set it down on his chest. The muzzle was politely turned to face away from Steve’s face, over his left shoulder. 

Clint’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Woah… Steve did you get  _ any _ sleep last night?” 

Glad to have finally been included in the conversation instead of just acting as Natasha’s mattress, and even more so to have that gun out of his back, the super soldier ginned up at him and shrugged. “Took me a minute to figure out what it was, but yeah. Lord knows I slept on harder, less comfortable things. You wouldn’t believe some of the places we had to bunk during the war.” 

Natasha finally looked a little embarrassed. She seemingly had only just realized that, while it might be comforting for  _ her _ to have a gun under her pillow, it might not be as reassuring for the person she was currently  _ using _ as a pillow. “Sorry Steve.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You good?” 

“Yeah.” The assassin carefully got up off of Steve’s chest and stood, shedding the quilt and stretching, once again reminding Steve of a cat. “Thanks for last night Steve, I appreciate that.” She hesitated, then added, “Clint?...I think I might need out of the tower for a few hours…” 

The archer nodded, grinning when she stole a drink from his mug and handed it right back. Neither he nor Steve batted an eye, Clint was just as likely to steal a sip of her coffee or a tidbit from her plate as she was to steal his. “Alright, guilty pleasures it is then. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and we’ll go hunt down the nearest Haagen Dazs, maybe see what else we can stir up. Sound good?” 

At last Natasha seemed to relax. “Breakfast first, then clothes and outings.” She corrected, and headed for the kitchen. 

Clint glanced down at the super soldier. “Thanks for looking out for her Steve. Last night must’ve been the pits.” 

“For her, it was.” Steve agreed. “Will she be alright?” 

“Yeah, she’ll be ok. Nat’s strong, but once in a while something pops up at night and bites her a little too hard. When stuff like that happens, you just stick to her like glue and remind her that she has friends now. She’s not a monster. She remembers, and she’s alright. She just needs a little time is all.” Clint reassured. 

In the kitchen, Tony’s voice skyrocketed up an octave. “Romanoff, are you _wearing_ Steve’s _clothes_?!” 

Clint doubled over and howled with laughter. Steve made a lunge, just barely managing to rescue Clint’s coffee before he dropped it he was laughing so hard. Steve’s quieter laughter underscored Clint’s loud guffaws as they listened to the mayhem ensuing in the kitchen. 

Clint flopped down by Steve on the couch. “.....Tony is  _ so _ dead!...”

* * *

 


	2. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Thor sleeps anywhere, and naked. This has caused a few issues."

* * *

Steve yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

It was early. Too early, even by Steve’s standards, not that he’d had a choice in the matter. His biological clock always got him up early to run, but that wasn’t the problem today. No, at four a.m. his problems consisted of nightmares and more  nightmares. He sighed and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. If he wasn’t going to get any more sleep, he might as well get a head start on his daily run. He’d do the usual number of laps, then he’d come back to the tower and try to find something to do until a more godly hour rolled around. Steve smiled as he finished lacing his shoes.

Maybe he’d use the extra time to make breakfast for the team.

The super soldier made his way down to the common area, intent on checking the pantry and refrigerator to see what ingredients were available for the team breakfast. Pancakes would be the easiest to make in large numbers, but he wouldn’t be averse to making an omelet or two for each teammate that wanted one. Hash browns would be another side that would be quick to turn out in truckloads. And big quantities did seem to be the name of the game with this team. Between Thor’s massive appetite, and his own metabolism that burned four times faster than the average human’s, they went through a lot of food. And that wasn’t even touching on the rest of them! His teammates already joked about making food in Thor or Cap sized portions. And that was just at the standard breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He ate heavy at meal times, but he also snacked throughout the day to keep up with the amount of calories his body needed.

Speaking of enhanced metabolism…

Steve shook his head as he went through the contents of the fridge. It was still a little bit of a bizarre concept, having such enormous amounts of food on hand for whenever he needed it. Certain food groups had been rationed out during the war, sure. But even before that, his family had never exactly been living in the lap of luxury. The depression had made life hard on everyone. Jobs had been scarce, and money scarcer still. 

For the Rogers it had been doubly so. 

Between losing Mr. Rogers, and having to pay Steve’s numerous medical bills and medication for his asthma, money had been tight for Steve and his mother Sarah. Little left over for food. It was one of the reasons that Steve had remained so small. With the body and metabolism he possessed now, he would’ve been hard pressed to survive on his own without government assistance. He never thought he would say it, but thank God for Stark. 

Without Tony, Steve would’ve been more heavily dependent on the government than he was truly comfortable with. 

Between Steve’s paycheck from S.H.E.I.L.D., his backwages from the forties (which had apparently accrued a substantial amount of interest), and housing provided by Tony, Steve needed next to nothing from the U.S. government. He had his savings, and he got an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work. They had no hold on him. 

Steve nodded to himself and grabbed a notepad and pen, making a quick note to purchase more eggs and milk. Tony undoubtedly would've pitched a fit about Steve doing a grocery run when Tony could've just as easily called out for groceries to be delivered, but Steve liked it. Weird as it sounded, he liked the normalcy of being able to just go to the grocery store without having to worry about a super villain threatening someone’s life or crashing through a wall or something. 

He definitely had the fixings for pancakes in team and Thor sized portions, he just needed a few more things to account for his own. The soldier tucked the note away in a pocket and started for the exit, quietly humming a tune under his breath, only to stop dead in his tracks in the common room. A soft snore had attracted his attention, and he stared, blue eyes the size of saucers in his shock. Thor was asleep on the couch…

And he was naked! 

Steve rubbed his eyes and looked again, surely this wasn’t happening! But no, the massive Asgardian was stretched out full length on his belly, not a stitch of clothing in sight! How he had managed to get out here with no one the wiser was beyond Steve, but there he was, large as life. Quiet rumbles sounded from his chest, the soft sound that had drawn Steve’s attention. The faintest hint of dawn was peeking in through the living room’s bay windows. Little more than a dull crimson warmth. It played over the Asgardian’s hair and skin, burnishing the demigod a deep bronze color, as if someone had laid out a bronze statue for the viewing.

If Thor wasn’t in a public room, Steve would’ve taken the chance to sketch him.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Never a dull moment in this tower. He sighed and went to the couch. Underneath each couch were folded more blankets than Steve could ever know what to do with. They varied in size, weight, color, and material. Something for everyone, or something like that. A smile quirked his lips. That was what Tony had said when they'd first noticed the abundance of blankets hidden away under there, or something along those lines. 

The blanket in his hands was a lightweight yellow cotton. 

Light enough to breathe, there wasn’t much danger of Thor overheating with this one. That, and it was big enough to cover him from head to toe, which was really what Steve was looking for. As much as he didn’t want to offend the Asgardian, he couldn’t exactly leave Thor in the nude. 

He lightly settled the blanket over the sleeping demigod, tucking it around him in the hope that it wouldn’t fall off the second he shifted in his sleep. Steve gave a satisfied nod once it was in place and once more made for the exit. He hoped Thor wouldn’t mind the blanket. But he couldn’t just leave it. It was bad enough  _ he’d _ walked in on Thor in the nude. 

What if it had been one of the _women_ _folk_?

* * *

 

 

He thought it was a one off thing. 

Steve should have known better than that. 

It was late, and the only reason Steve was on the common floor at all this late at night was because he had forgotten his book in the living room earlier that evening.

Thor was on the deck this time. Buck naked in a lawn chair, without a care in the world. The moon and a small scattering of stars shone down gently from above, but they were easily outmatched by the garish lights of the city and the softer lights of the tower. The sounds and bustle of the city that never sleeps were almost nonexistent up here. Only the demigod’s quiet snores could be heard in the near silence, a gentle counterpoint to the whistle and sigh of the wind over the terrace. The breeze strung out Thor’s long hair over the back of the lounge chair, twisting and playing with the blonde locks with the capriciousness of mischievous child. It would be more tangled than a thicket by the time dawn rolled around.

Again, Steve found himself wishing for pencil and paper. 

And that Thor would stick to non public areas when he retired for the evening. The super soldier sighed and returned to the living room. He could see were this could become a problem. But how to broach the subject with Thor? Far be it for him to encroach on Thor’s culture and beliefs. That was what this country had been built on after all. It was a melting pot of cultures and beliefs, and everyone was free to be and do what they wished within reason. Thor might not be of this planet, but as far as Steve was concerned, the same rights applied. Human or no. Who was he to try and dictate to his friend what he could or couldn’t do? 

Steve shook his head and dug under the couch for a blanket. 

He chose a red one this time, a little heavier than the last, but that would serve well enough. The evening was warm, but up here the breeze was cool enough to bite. Tony always kept the tower a little on the cool side of reasonable, apparently it was better for his machines, less chance that they’d overheat. Still, amongst other things Thor was the god of thunder. An elemental, in a loose sense of the term. He would feel more comfortable seeking a natural escape from the heat than Tony’s air conditioning. It was probably why Thor had sought respite on the patio in the first place. Steve really doubted Thor would actually get cold, but he settled the heavier blanket over his friend and teammate anyway and tucked it in.

If nothing else the weightier blanket would be harder for the breeze to blow away. 

The super soldier eyed his handiwork. When the blanket seemed content to stay put, he returned to the living room for his book. The beat up paperback was exactly where he remembered leaving it. It wasn’t one he had thought would really catch his interest, but he had been pleasantly surprised. Clint had suggested this particular series, and had been happy enough to lend them to Steve when he’d agreed to give them a try. Steve was always careful with his books, but seeing as this one didn’t belong to him he was being especially mindful of its care. 

He glanced back at the blanket wrapped Asgardian asleep on the terrace. 

He would need to talk to Thor about this. 

And soon.

* * *

 

 

He had thought he’d have time to speak to Thor before this became an issue. 

Steve really should have known better. No way he would catch a break like that. He was now thoroughly convinced that apparently fate just loved to prove Steven Grant Rogers wrong. No idea why. Maybe she thought it was fun to hand him the short end of the stick and watch him scramble to make it work. 

Either way, he really,  _ really  _ should’ve known better! 

He had dealt with Thor sleeping nude in public several times over the past several weeks. It was a coin toss whether he’d stick to his own floor or come down to the communal floor. The Asgardian seemed content to sleep just about anywhere, really. Steve still couldn't believe the time he'd found him perched on a chair in the kitchen, sprawled across the table like that. He'd honestly thought Thor was hurt until Jarvis had assured him otherwise. He'd found Thor in several other odd places as well, and thankfully that one was the only time so far where he'd felt his heart skip a beat with worry for his friend's well being.

But Steve had yet to talk to the Asgardian about it. 

There was never time to take Thor aside and talk to him privately during the day. After all, he didn't want to embarrass him in front of the team! And when he came across the demigod while he slept it was always extremely late at night or extremely early in the morning. Steve didn't need as much sleep as he used to since he'd become a super soldier, but he was still mindful of the fact that the rest of the team  _ did  _ need it. So when he came across Thor in public spaces at night he would get a blanket from under the couch, cover him, and make a mental note to pull Thor aside the next day and talk to him. Except that chance never cared to present itself. Something always got in the way. And now Steve had to deal with the fallout. 

Said fallout being one  _ Victoria ‘Pepper’ Potts _ ! 

The first Steve knew of it was Pepper’s startled yelp just as the elevator doors were opening onto the common floor. He raced off the elevator and around the corner into the living room. 

Steve had slept in for once, usually he'd be a third of his way through his morning run by now, and the blush of a beautiful sunrise was shining in through the floor to ceiling windows warm and strong. It backlit Pepper, and turned her into little more than a gilded silhouette against the windows. 

But even as a silhouette, Steve could see the tense set of her shoulders. 

His first instinct was to scan the room, the terrace, and the sky beyond for threats. When nothing inherently dangerous presented itself right off the bat, Steve focused on the woman herself. He'd always found her to be a sensible woman, and she wasn't easily frightened. 

In that respect she reminded him a little of Peggy.

“Miss Potts?” He asked cautiously. “Are you alright?”

“What?” She finally seemed to realize Steve was there, and seemed to pull herself together. “Yes… yes, I'm fine, I just…” She shook her head and stepped away from the couch. “I think I need a minute. It is  _ far  _ too early for this  _ nonsense _ !” 

Steve frowned, Pepper was usually pretty unflappable. After spending so many years working for, and now  _ dating _ , Tony Stark she couldn't afford to be anything else. Steve had only ever seen her flustered once before, and that incident had been unanimously titled by all present as ‘the time that shall not be named’. Steve peeked over the back of the couch, an inkling of dread in his stomach.

Of course it was Thor.

Just like the first time Steve had found Thor asleep in the common area, the Avengers favorite Asgardian was stretched out from end to end on his belly. He was soundly asleep, he didn't even snore, and hadn't so much as  _ twitched _ at Pepper’s outburst. They had had a rough go of it the evening before on a mission in Europe, and their flight had gotten in late. By the time Fury finished his  _ excruciatingly _ thorough debriefing they were all “dragging so much  _ ass _ we're wiping out the tracks  _ behind _ us!”. Tony’s words,  _ not _ Steve’s. 

Even  _ Natasha _ was stumbling over her own feet! 

The soldier sighed and started going through the motions. Once Thor was as decent as Steve could make him, the super soldier turned his attention to the kitchen, where Pepper had taken refuge after her start. 

She was aggressively making tea. 

Steve couldn’t think of any other way to describe the tightly controlled movements, the tense set of her shoulders and jaw, or the sharp click of the dishes against the granite counter top. Though still visibly flustered, that was swiftly making way for indignation, and a calm anger that once again reminded him of Peggy. Steve had always been quick to get out of the way when she got that look in her eye. It was a strategy that had always worked well for him, and after a few run-ins with the more than capable English woman the Howling Commandos quickly learned to follow his lead. 

Feeling as if he were taking his life into his hands, he settled at the kitchen island across from her. He stayed quiet, giving her time to get her thoughts in order, and only spoke after she had settled down on an island stool with her tea. 

“I covered him up.” 

She gave an irritable little huff. “Good!” 

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence for a while. At length she gave a weary sigh, and some her anger seemed to seep away. “I'm sorry Steve. I'm being rude and you don't deserve that… Tea?” 

“Yes ma’am,  thank you.” He stood, taking it as an invitation, rather than an offer. “I'll get it Miss Potts. And there's no need to apologize, he gave you quite a start. You have the right to be a little off your game.” He chuckled. “Trust me, you're not the only one he's surprised.” He topped off her tea, then returned to his seat with his own cup. “I'm sorry you had to see that ma’am.” 

Pepper sighed. “Still not a good excuse for rudeness. It's not as if I haven't seen a naked man before. I've worked for Tony for far too long to not have seen my fair share of bare backsides, especially at those wild parties he used to throw in the early years. I put up with these sorts of shenanigans to much as it is with Tony and I'm just… I'm just tired of it.” 

“I understand the sentiment.” Steve agreed, his face twisting at the memory of the incidents over the past several weeks. “I'll let him sleep, last night’s mission was rough, but I'll talk to him about this when he wakes up. Enough is enough.” 

Finally, Pepper allowed a small smile to show through. “You've walked in on him too?” 

Steve blanched. “More times than I care to count.” 

Pepper chuckled. “I see...Well, I was going to give him a tongue lashing, but seeing as you're the more strongly aggrieved party I'll leave him to you.” 

“I don't know that I'm aggrieved, but it definitely isn't something I want to see at six in the morning.” 

The business woman finished her tea and set the cup in the sink. Retrieving her brief case, she paused in the kitchen doorway.

“Let me know how that talk goes will you?” 

Steve put on a mock serious expression and threw her a salute. “Yes ma’am!” 

She loosed a laugh and waved him off.

Steve hid a grin in his cup. Mission accomplished!  Her day had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, but she was leaving the tower with a smile, so hopefully it would get better.  

He refreshed his tea and returned to the living room. Thor was still slumbering away, dead to the world. Steve settled on one of the other couches, and sat back to enjoy the sunrise. He wasn't sure how the coming conversation would go, but on the off chance it went bad, he'd take the peace while he could get it.

Thor slept for another two hours. 

Natasha came down an hour after Pepper left, throwing him a little smile through the tousled red hair that framed her face. Steve waved, but stayed in the living room. He wasn't going to risk Thor waking up and sneaking off before Steve could talk to him. She didn't stay long, leaving again only a few minutes later with her gym bag over her shoulder and a water bottle fresh from the fridge in her hand. 

When Thor finally woke, Steve missed it. 

He had long since finished his tea. Needing something to do, and not feeling particularly in the mood for television, he had reverted back to his old standby. Drawing. He always carried a notebook and pencil with him. There was no telling when he’d be called to ‘hurry up and wait’, and would need something to keep himself occupied. 

And frankly a sketchbook felt like  _ home _ .

Given how cruddy his health had been back in the day, most anything of an athletic nature was either strictly taboo or allowed only in  _ extreme _ moderation. Steve had never let that stop him. But on occasions when he was in the hospital, too sick to leave the couch, or just staying down under the threat of his mother or Bucky sitting on him to  _ force _ him to stay down, Steve had simply needed something to do with his hands. Drawing  had been a perfect fit. 

And he’d had nothing but time to practice. 

It hadn’t taken long for his mother and Bucky to notice Steve’s blossoming interest in art, and they had encouraged it as much as they’d been able to. Buck had even gone so far as to borrow books and sketchpads full of classwork from friends majoring in art so that Steve could begin to hone his skills. Steve’s drawings had progressed in leaps and bounds, and there was no disguising the proud smiles on Bucky and Sarah’s faces when they found his sketches on this or that. And yes, it literally  _ was  _ this and that. Steve drew on whatever happened to be handy. Newsprint, butcher paper, whatever worked. Steve had been ecstatic when his mother and Bucky had given him an  _ actual _ sketchbook for his eighteenth birthday. 

Currently, his subject of interest was the empty mug on the coffee table. It was a simple mug, but the marbled pattern and the early morning sunlight made for an interesting study. He’d rendered it in pencil, heavy shadows giving way to brilliant white highlights. He’d done a good job of capturing the simple object on paper. 

Steve wasn’t exactly a Rembrandt, but neither was he a slouch.

A groan finally drew his attention back to Thor on the other couch. The Asgardian had rolled over and sat up, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling in an attempt to wake up. Thankfully, the blanket had remained across his lap. The demigod shoved his hair out of his face and finally seemed to notice Steve. 

“Steven.” He greeted with a friendly smile. “It looks to be a glorious day, does it not?” 

Steve couldn't help but smile at Thor’s open friendly manner, so refreshing compared to the cynical, jaded attitude he'd come to expect from the people of this time. 

“Sunrise was beautiful today.” He agreed. 

“Then I am sorry to’ve missed it.” 

The Asgardian made to stand, and Steve threw out an arm to stop him. “Thor wait!” The Asgardian paused. “There's something I need to talk to you about.” 

“Of course my friend.”

Thor settled back down on the couch. He gave the blanket in his lap an odd look, but returned his focus to Steve almost immediately. Steve had used his ‘Captain America’ tone, Tony’s words naturally, and that meant that this conversation was going to be held in all seriousness. 

So it threw him for a bit of a loop when Steve’s cheeks colored a little in embarrassment. 

“Ok…. um….”

The Asgardian cocked his head, now more confused than ever. Steve might not be the type to give massive flowery speeches, but he wasn’t ineloquent! He was calm, and spoke clearly, moving directly to the point. He rarely stumbled over his words, and was rarely so openly at a loss for them. He almost seemed….embarrassed? 

“Is everything alright my friend?” 

Steve colored even more and started to fidget uncertainly with his pencil.  

“Steven?” 

The captain took a deep breath, seemingly bracing himself, and finally soldiered on. “Thor, exactly how different is Asgardian culture from ours?”  

Thor cocked his head, not entirely sure where this had come from. Not that he considered this invasive, but he knew Steve didn’t pry without reason. So he shrugged and answered the question as best he could.  

“It depends in what manner you mean. In many ways our cultures are quite similar, but in others they are vastly different.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, for instance, in my homeworld we have massive creatures called bilge snipes. We use their horns and scales for various things, utterly repulsive though the creatures themselves are. They are quite useful. However, I was informed by the son of Cole that you do not have such creatures here in midgard, and thus you use other materials for the items we would use horn and scale to create.” He smiled a little. “It would also seem that we have a different relationship with mead and ale than you midgardians do.” 

That at least earned him a chuckle from the human. 

“But tell me Steve, what is it that you wish to know?” 

The smile dropped away again in an instant and Steve was blushing again. “Ok...ah, bear with me on this one Thor. There’s only one area I need clarified right now… what are your customs concerning the … the bedroom?” 

Thor’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. That definitely hadn’t been where he had thought this was going to go! This was Steve for crying out loud! He would’ve expected such behavior from Tony, or maybe even  _ Clint _ , but  _ certainly  _ not Steve! It wasn’t in his nature. It would explain the embarrassment though.  A thought struck him, and he smiled. Yes, perhaps that was it. 

“Have you met the Lady Sif?” 

Steve twirled his pencil in his fingers. He wasn’t overly familiar with this woman Thor was bringing up, but Thor wasn’t given to rambling. He’d follow and see where the Asgardian was leading with this. 

“Can’t say as I have, but you’ve mentioned her a few times, her and the ‘warriors three’. They sound like swell folks.” 

Thor nodded. “Verily. They are great warriors, each in their own way, and even better friends. The Lady Sif holds a dear place in my heart, as that of a little sister. And she has taught me many things over the years in the ways of women.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Lessons that have proved of incalculable value now as I court my Lady Jane.” 

Steve was smiling again. 

Confident that he was now on the correct track, Thor ploughed on. “In truth, women are women the world over and beyond. Each the same, and each different in her own way. Asgardian women are no different. If you wish to court one of them Steven, go about it as you would one of your own women here in Midgard. If you truly care for her, it cannot go ...amiss?” 

Thor trailed off, staring at his teammate in confusion. Steve had gone very red in the face and appeared to be choking on air. He was waving frantically at Thor, and the Asgardian obediently subsided. 

Had he said something wrong?

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, embarrassment flooding through him. This was  _ not _ going the way he’d intended.  _ Clearly _ the universe hated him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to address the now thoroughly perplexed Asgardian. 

“That’s not… that’s not what this is about Thor…” 

His friend frowned. “Then pray tell, what is it about, as I seem to have misread your intentions.” 

Steve sighed. “Thor it’s… It’s about…” He stammered to a halt again, and for what felt like the thousandth time he wished that Thor was not in the nude in a public room. He could deal a heck of a lot more effectively if it was one or the other but, again, apparently the universe just thinks it’s hysterical to mess with him. 

Thor was really beginning to worry now, and he reached for Steve’s shoulder. “My friend, please. Whatever troubles you, you may speak freely with me, I will not take it amiss out of turn. Explain to me what it is that troubles you so.” 

“Thor… What do you know about this country, the U.S.?” 

“Very little of its history.” The demigod admitted. “Though it is the country I am most familiar with here on Midgard, as my Lady Jane and the majority of my friends live or come from here. I do not often have call to visit other lands outside of our own forays for the sake of battle.” 

Steve nodded. “Alright. America was founded on the idea of freedom. Folks came here so that they could worship free of oppression. When this land seceded from England and became its own country, they took it a couple steps further. They drew up a bill of rights, um, a treaty I guess you’d say?” 

Thor nodded and Steve pressed on.

“They gave our citizens freedom of speech, the right to bear arms, and a host of other rights on top of the freedom of religion. A lot of people immigrated here specifically for those rights. And they brought their own beliefs and cultures with them. This country is a melting pot of all of them. So long as everyone abides by the laws laid out by the government, they’re free to do as they please.” 

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. But… I fail to see what the history of this country has to do with me?” He phrased the statement as a question, trying to encourage the captain to be more clear. 

“It has to do with you, because Asgardian or not, as far as I’m concerned you’re still entitled to the same rights as anyone else in this country is.” Steve asserted. He grimaced and finally bit the bullet. “And that’s sort of the problem. Some of your behavior lately has thrown up some red flags. I’m just wondering whether it’s a cultural difference, or something else.” 

“I?” Thor arched his eyebrows, wondering what on earth he could’ve done that they would send the captain to talk to him. “I did not mean to break any law. I will make whatever recompense is required.” 

Steve shook his head. “You haven’t yet. We’re just worried you will if we don’t say something. I’ve been trying to catch you alone for several weeks now.”

“Aye, we have been very busy as of late.” Thor agreed. “I much appreciate the concern you have shown in seeking to speak with me alone.”

Steve waved the compliment off. “Praise in public, censure in private...So. Is it normal for Asgardians to… to sleep in the nude?” 

“That is a problem here on Midgard?” 

“Not normally, no. What you do in the privacy of your own home is your own business. However, it  _ becomes _ a problem when you choose to do it in public.” He shrugged. “I’m a bit of a night owl, and so far as I know I’m the only one who’s walked in on you so far over the past few weeks. As you said, we’ve been pretty busy, so I’ve just been covering you up with a blanket and letting you sleep.” 

Thor glanced down at the blanket in his lap. “Ah, that would explain the blankets. I have woken often under a blanket that I do not remember retiring with. That was you my friend?” 

“It was.” Steve agreed. “I couldn’t just leave you like that, where anyone could walk in on you. I thought I had plenty of time to talk to you…. So of course someone else would walk in on you before I could speak with you.”

“Someone did?” 

Steve grimaced. “Someone did. You gave Pepper quite a scare this morning. And she was ready to give you quite a tongue lashing. Let her catch you out here again without clothes and she probably still will.” 

Thor blanched. “I will apologize to her my friend. I meant no disrespect to the Lady Pepper. I will apologize to her most profusely. On Asgard, it is not unusual for men to disrobe before they sleep, but not before a lady. Had I known that the Lady Pepper frequented this floor in the evenings, I never would have considered it.” 

“She caught an eye full of you this morning actually.” Steve corrected. “And you’re forgetting Natasha. She has free run of the communal floor too you know. You were covered with a blanket by the time she came down this morning, but it could just as easily have been her you surprised.” 

“Then I will thank the stars that it was not her.” The demigod chuckled. “I have the feeling Milady Natasha would react in a similar, if not worse, fashion as that of the Lady Sif.” He patted Steve’s shoulder. “Many thanks my friend, for clarifying the matter for me.” 

Steve grinned, and the last of his tension ebbed away. “Not a problem.” 

Off to one side, a grate in the air ducts slid aside and a figure dropped down, landing in a crouch. Neither Steve nor Thor batted an eyelash. Clint often used the ventilation shafts as his own personal highways through the tower, and was forever climbing up out of this tunnel, or dropping down out of that shaft. All of the Avengers had grown accustomed to it, and to all of the other little eccentricities of their teammates. Like Natasha hiding guns in various places throughout the tower, or finding Bruce watching children's’ cartoons at three in the morning. 

Clint glanced up. His sharp eyes took in their positions and states of dress at a glance and he paused. “...am I interrupting something?”

Steve and Thor answered simultaneously. 

“No, Clint.”

“Of course not friend Barton! Steven was simply explaining a few matters to me.”

Clint shrugged and got to his feet. “ ‘bout time someone talked to him about the nudity. Nat was about ready to handle things her way.” He headed for the kitchen.

Steve whirled and stared after his teammate’s a retreating back. “Wait, you knew?” 

“Course I did!” Clint called without a backwards glance. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.” He grumbled good naturedly, going back to his sketch pad and twirling his pencil around his fingers again as he eyed the sketch. “Of course he knew. But would it have killed him to say something?” 

Thor chuckled at his mock irritation, and Steve shot him a grin. 

“I guess we should be glad he was willing to run interference with Natasha.” 

“Verily.” Thor agreed.

* * *

 

 

The talk had gone well. Steve thought that would be the end of it.

He should have known better. 

Things had gone well most of the day. There hadn't been any life threatening situations, and no calls to assemble. The Avengers had each gone about their  own business throughout the day. It had been nice, having something almost like a day off. 

And to cap off that nice day, Steve had thought it would be nice to have a good sit down meal in the evening with these teammates that had become a sort of family for a man out of time. 

He'd gone to the kitchen to get a meal started before Tony had a chance to order out, and he'd spent most of the next couple hours there cooking. He'd laid out a hearty meal around seven thirty, and Jarvis had been kind enough to alert the rest of the team that dinner was on the table. 

Predictably, Thor was the first to arrive, and he was more than happy to help Steve finish setting out the food. Clint and Natasha came up next, both freshly showered after a long sparring match in the gym. Bruce wandered in from his lab, still smelling faintly of the various chemicals he'd been working with that day. And, as expected, Tony was the last one to come trotting out of the elevator.

“Tony! Think fast!” Clint called and pegged a damp wash directly at the billionaire’s head. 

Tony grimaced, and pulled it off his face. “Thanks Katniss.” 

“You've got something on your cheek Stark.” Natasha answered. 

“Oh.” He leaned over to peer into a mirror on the wall and began scrubbing at the black smudge of God only knew what smeared across his right cheekbone. “Thanks.” 

The food was good, and the team tucked in with a will. Steve had all but forgotten the morning's awkwardness. 

“So Thor, what's this I hear about you flashing my girlfriend this morning…?”

Steve should've known better. 

Of course it couldn't last.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Yes? No? Maybe so? 
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments below!


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